


I can't handle this.

by Multikicker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, I'm really horrible at tagging, Is It Unethical To Fall In Love With An Assassin?, mercymaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 18:39:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12732075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multikicker/pseuds/Multikicker
Summary: I wrote this because a set of song lyrics stuck out at me and wouldn't go away.Make of it what you will.





	I can't handle this.

**Author's Note:**

> "I want to please you,  
> But I want to stay true to myself;  
> I want to give you the night out that you deserve,  
> But I want to say what I think,  
> And not care what you think about it.  
> Part of me loves you...  
> Part of me hates you...  
> Part of me needs you...  
> Part of me fears you..  
> And I don't think that I can handle this right now,  
> Handle this right now,  
> I don't think that I can handle this right now..."  
> \- 'Can't Handle This', by Bo Burnham

Angela Ziegler closed the manila folder labelled ‘[Biotic Enhancement Procedures]’ tiredly and slumped back in her office chair, swivelling around to lie limp on her desk. Everything was so draining now. She was so tired…..she just wanted to sleep…...her eyes flickered shut, and she was out like a light.

 

* * *

 

“...gela. Angela! _Cheríe,_ wake up.” She stirred, looking up through blurry eyes. A cold hand ran through her hair, and caused her to shiver. “Wake up, _cheríe._ ” There was a blue blur hovering above her. “Amé...Amelíe?” Angela breathed, as the blur began to resolve itself. The blue sniper gave a faint sigh, a sad little smile resolving on her face. “Amelíe's dead, _cheríe._ I've told you that.” Widowmaker whispered, leaning down next to her. “I know…..” She mumbled, dragging herself off the desk. “I know, _liebe_ , and I'm sorry. It isn't easy for either of us.” Standing, she put on a pot of coffee in the careworn coffee machine that she kept in the corner of her office. Walking over to the open window, she leaned on the sill and stared out at the stars. “So did you just come to say hi, or…” She asked, not turning. Widowmaker drew level with her, also, scanning the night sky. “You sent me a text, _ma cheríe_ , saying you wanted to talk.” Widow said, raising a confused eyebrow at her. “It was you, and not just Sombra fucking with me, _oui_?”

“I- schiße….” She had sent that text, and with good reason, but everything had been such a whirlwind of conundrums lately that she'd forgot. “I….it slipped my mind. I'm sorry. I didn't want to do it all over text. It would be unfair.” Widow gave her a glowing smile, and the sinking feeling deep inside her grew. “Are you breaking up with me, Doctor?” The sniper asked jovially.

 

“Yes.”

 

Widowmaker froze, eyes widening, and there was pain in her gold irises, enough pain that Angela almost stopped there, almost went back. But she couldn’t. “You don’t deserve this,” she began, turning and walking over to pour herself a cup of coffee. “I’m so sorry.” She sipped the coffee and tried not to look at Widow, how her shoulders were sagged, how she looked hurt and defeated. “Why?” Widowmaker asked, eyes going from pained to pleading. “Is it something I did wrong? I can make whatever it is right, _cheríe,_ I can.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s not you, Widow. You’re perfect.” She gesticulated with her free hand, as if to accentuate her point. “You’re beautiful, you’re self-assured, you’re confident - no, you’re perfect. This is about me, and my failings.” She stared at the coffee in the mug for a moment, and then drained it. The hot liquid seared its way down her throat and lit a fire in her stomach, momentarily rendering her speechless. The dull warmth lingered, but this time it didn’t provide any comfort. She sank back into her chair and made eye contact with Widowmaker. If she was going to fall apart, she’d do it on her own terms.

“I love you,” she began in a hoarse whisper, resting her head on her hands. “With every fibre of my being. I want to make you happy, and yet…” She paused, taking a shuddering breath. “I _shouldn’t_ love you. I shouldn’t love someone who enjoys killing as much as you do, and yet I love you. You’ve killed so many people I care about and respect, and yet I love you. Amelíe was dear to me, and your existence directly correlates to a lack of hers, and yet I love you. You’re cold, and sometimes distant, and right now I would give anything to be the same, because I don’t know what’s wrong with me….” The tears were beginning to fall now, distorting her vision and running salty tracks down her cheeks. Sobbing, she wrapped her legs in her arms and looked down at them, finally breaking down. “I love you….I love you….I should hate you, but I…..I l-love y-you….what’s w-wrong with me that I love you…..”

She felt a cold hand cup her cheek, and she blinked away tears to look up into Widow’s eyes. The sniper was giving her that same sad smile as before, but something felt different about it, like this was something reserved for her, and her alone. “Shhhh….” Widow cooed, kneeling down so that they were face to face. “I understand, _ma cheríe_ . I really do. But it is not as complicated as you think.” Angela wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her lab coat and gave a weak chuckle. “Please, then. Enlighten me.” Widow offered her a hand, and she took it and let herself be pulled onto the carpet to sit next to the blue woman. “There is nothing wrong with you, Angela.” Widow began, squeezing her hand. “Like me, you are a victim of circumstance. Neither of us chose this, but it is what we have. We can make the best of it or we can give up, and those are the only two options.” Angela just sat as she felt Widowmaker move her hand, letting it rest above her heart. Time seemed to move infinitesimally slow, and she felt a heartbeat in that pale blue chest. She looked up at Widow to see that the sniper was smiling. “I don’t want to see you give up, _cheríe_. That would break what is left of my heart. Because, I love you too, and I think we can work this out. So will you try with me? Can we work through this, together?”

“You make it sound so easy…..” Angela sighed, fumbling to open the desk drawer and extract a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?” She asked, offering the box to Widow, who shook her head. “Those things will kill you, _cheríe_ .” Shielding the lighter from the wind, she ignited the tip of the cigarette and shrugged. “Old habits die hard. So how can we fix this? Because I can't go on like this. It's….it’s pulling me apart…..” Taking a drag, she blew a smoke ring into the air and watched it dissipate as it travelled farther away from her, vanishing into nothingness. “I am a killer, _cheríe._ I am a weapon, aimed at people. I cannot change that, and as much as you want to, neither can you. Talon uses me, and I let them, because I _like_ killing. It makes me feel alive. But they do not own me.” Widowmaker smiled at her, and there was no malevolence or sadism in it. Just a smile, and try though she might to stop it, it made Angela's heart sing. “I am a weapon, Angela,” Widow continued, “but that can be our salvation. I am a weapon. Use me. Let me be _your_ weapon. That is the solution, the simplest solution. _You_ be the one that tells me who to kill, and then you can be assured I never hurt someone you care about again. Let me be your weapon, _cheríe._ ”

 

Angela sniffled and began to cry again, softly this time. Nodding, she leaned over and rested her head on Widow’s lap, curling up into another ball.

 

“Yes…...gods, yes.”


End file.
